


I Sing the Body Domestic

by sergeant_angel



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Hawkeye (Comics), Young Avengers (Comics)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 07:30:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8195975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sergeant_angel/pseuds/sergeant_angel
Summary: Steve never expected to be doing a socialite's makeup, but then, he never really anticipated most of the things in his life.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when you become fixated on makeup and the phrase "I sing the body electric" in the same weekend.   
> That's right! What happens is pointless flashfiction.  
> Not beta'ed (or...proofread, at all)  
> No plot, just a little piece of almost-fluff to try and get the gears turning again.

Steve is reading a Poe anthology, which is why the insistent tap, tap, tapping at his chamber door is somewhat more unnerving than it might otherwise be.

As he sets down his book, it becomes less of a _tap_ and more of a _pounding_ , and it’s not exactly a raven.

“Nevermore?” he says to Hawkeye, who tilts her head and blinks at him before shoving past and into his living room.

“So, Clint is in traction, you know, what with the broken everything from your last mission, thank you for that, by the way,” the words spring from Kate, rapid-fire with hardly a pause for breath, “and I have a thing tonight. A Thing. That Clint was supposed to help me get ready for, and go with me to, and now he can do neither of those things and I just wanted you to know that I blame you entirely before I go attempt to get ready while trying to convince Natasha that I don’t need her knockout lipstick. Anyway. Bye,” Kate makes to high-tail it back out the door when Steve catches her by the garment bag slung over her shoulder.

“Woah, woah, woah,” he tugs on the bag, which is a lot heavier than he anticipated, and Kate is pulled to about a forty-five degree angle before getting her feet back under her.

“This is a heavy dress,” she says as if that’s an explanation. “I need to put my face on, okay, and Clint usually does this part for me. And sometimes Peter does my hair,” she trails off, muttering mostly to herself, “but no, he’s in _space_ , doing _space things_.”

“Hey,” Steve lifts the garment bag off her shoulder. “I can do makeup.”

“What?”

“I used to be a showgirl, you know.”

* * *

“I chew my lipstick off,” Kate informs him ten minutes later, the contents of her makeup case strewn over his kitchen table. “Clint always despairs of me ever not needing a lipstick touchup.”

“Stop talking,” Steve reprimands. “Or you’re going to wind up with lip tint all over your chin, and I don’t think this stuff comes off.”

Kate stops talking.

“Makeup was different back in the day,” Steve muses, uncapping a tube of mascara, holding the wand to her eyes. “Blink.”

She does.

“This was a lot messier,” he continues. “Blink a few more times. Those gals I worked with on the bond circuit, though? Makeup was their uniform, it was what they put on to get ready for their battles.” He moves to her other eye. “Blink.”

“Did you help them with their makeup?”

“Not often. They had to teach me how to do my own. Those stage lights flatten everyone out. Highlights, shadow—“ he smudges a bit of one of her lipsticks on his hand before setting it to the side and grabbing another. “I’m going to put this over your tint, it’s going to add some depth to the color.”

Steve rummages around in her kit before coming up with a tiny brush that he runs through the shimmering crimson of Kate’s lipstick, carefully painting it across her lips with short strokes. “And when you can see the color underneath, you know it’s time to come home.”

Kate’s fingers drum against Steve’s knee, and he can’t quite remember when she put her hand there. “Sure thing, Cap,” she winks, then swears when her eyelashes stick together.

“Save it for the afterparty, Hawkeye,” he can’t help his grin. “Smile for me.”

“What?” she glares, and it takes Steve thirty seconds for Darcy’s reprimand to _not tell women to smile more, it’s sexist, Rogers_ echoes in his head.

“Oh! Not like. Not in the sexist way. I need the apples of your cheeks.” He holds the tube up. “For your blush.”

“I think I have actual blush in there, you know.”

“This is going to look good, though. Trust me.”

Kate stares at him for a beat, before smiling so Steve can press a line of the makeup on to her skin. Steve rubs his thumb against her cheek, blending the sharp edges of the color into something softer and more natural.

He’s close enough he can _feel_ the way Kate’s breath catches when he blends her other cheek, the way her eyes drift closed so he can see the gold he put on her eyelids. It would be a simple thing, really, to tilt her chin up and—

 _And Clint will kill you,_ Steve reminds himself.

“He won’t be out of traction for another month,” Kate mutters, and Steve jerks back, surprised.

“How did you know--?”

“What? I was just thinking that Clint…would….” She drifts off, head cocked to the side, surveying Steve. “Huh. You too?”

Steve can _feel_ his cheeks get red, his palms get clammy, as he sits back in his seat. “You should probably get a move on, your hair took longer than I meant.”

Hawkeye, s eyes dart to the clock on the stove and everything about her becomes sharper. “You’re right, I’m going to be late. _Fashionably_ late, of course.”

She ducks into the bedroom where her dress is hanging and Steve focuses very intently on repacking her makeup case, trying not to listen too closely to the shimmering sounds of her dress or the faint _oof_ Kate utters and she puts it on.

“Zip me up?” she asks, shoes in one hand and a small handbag in the other. Her dress is a shimmering, sparkling thing, what is probably thousands of crystals in deep blue and dark purple, the colors fading into and out of one another. It looks like a bruise, it looks like the night sky.

“Janet really outdid herself, didn’t she?” Kate asks when Steve can’t seem to find his tongue.

“Wasp did this?” Steve finally finds the small silver tab and pulls it up, enclosing Kate in her dress.

“I hope I don’t have to fight anyone in this,” Kate adds as she leans down to put on one of her shoes. “It weights a futzing ton.” She braces herself on Steve’s arm to put the other shoe on, teetering unsteadily until Steve grips her elbow, keeping her upright. “Much obliged, Captain.”

Even in heels, she’s still a great deal shorter than she is. It means she still has to stretch up to press her lips to his cheek, undoubtedly leaving a lip print. “Don’t wait up for me, now.”

“Oh, now, why would I do that?”

“Haven’t a clue,” Kate hauls up a handful of her skirt, somehow managing to glide past him. “Sure you don’t want to go with?”

“I left my bejeweled tux at the dry cleaners.”

“How shortsighted.” The grin fades slightly as she stops at his door. “Thank you again, Steve. I honestly didn’t expect you to help, I just planned on griping at you and then hiding in a storage closet watching youtube tutorials. I never had a chance to get makeup lessons from my mom, so I’ve never been too great at this.”

Steve doesn’t get a chance to respond before the door clicks shut behind her.

Well.

An interesting turn of events, at any rate.

* * *

“You _did_ wait up for me,” Kate’s makeup has worn well; her hair is a little flat but nothing really noticeable if you weren’t the one doing it. She looks positively gleeful, which seems like an odd expression for someone caught picking a door lock.

“I’m up. Doesn’t mean I waited up for you.”

“Sure, sure,” she stands. “Can I come in? I left my clothes here.”

“What? Oh. Sure.”

She drops her shoes in the entryway, and Steve is almost surprised to find himself kissing her.

Almost. Not quite.

“Wow,” Kate sounds slightly dazed when he pulls back, her thumb rubbing at his lower lip. “Huh. No smudging. Should write that in the review, ‘holds up to supersoldier makeout sessions.”

 

 


End file.
